War Games
by Sententiae
Summary: The Turks don't celebrate Christmas, but they have their own way of sharing the winter cheer.


**Summary:** The Turks don't celebrate Christmas, but they have their own way of sharing the winter cheer. Written for the fan bingo squares: vacations and holidays, day-in-the-life.

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><p><strong>War Games<strong>

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><p>Shinra didn't celebrate Christmas, what with being set in a world where it didn't exist. However, each year when the (often radioactive) snow fell, a strange calm would settle over the long corridors of the Shinra building.<p>

This was not due to a sudden and inexplicable onset of good cheer. In fact, it did not even have anything to do with staff members setting off for warmer climates that were less likely to result in them growing an extra arm or two.

Oh, no. There were much more primitive, survival-of-the-fittest kinds of reasons involved for what was becoming known as the Great Exodus.

Rather simply, the Turks did not appreciate winter. Their uniform stayed exactly the same regardless of the weather, and while there were those who blatantly ignored said dress-code (Reno) and would dress however the fuck they liked, thank you very much (Reno), there was also the fact that purchasing more appropriate wear meant dipping into funds that could best be spent on alcohol (Reno), new weapons (Reno), or random attempts at flower arranging (Elena) (There was no accounting for taste).

The snow itself really wasn't that much of a problem. Ok, scratch that. The snow was one hell of a problem, especially considering the colour of their uniform and said inability to change into anything more appropriate (see above). Most criminal organisations took winter off, in no small part because it was hard to find camouflage gear that matched the particular shade of green that the snow often fell in. However, the Turks were expected to push on with dark suits, frozen gun barrels, and a string of curse words that could be heard a mile off.

They did this with the utmost professionalism that they approached most things.

"T minus 10," Reno murmured beneath his breath, his back pressed against the wall as he crouched low to the ground. Rude's affirmation buzzed through his earpiece, and Reno coldly picked up the grenade. Dipping his head around the corner, he saw their target approach. The target stalked soundlessly, all light footsteps and shadow hugging that would make the most clingy of girlfriends ask for a little space. Then, she abruptly started skidding down the iced hallway, which only minutes before Reno had hosed down with water. In the frigid temperature, it had only taken a few seconds to freeze into a icy surface.

"Gotcha!" Reno declared with glee, jumping out into the corridor, grenade in each hand. It was the perfect plan, at least right up until the moment when the desperate skidding of his target suddenly took on a deliberate deadliness, her body snapping upright and bending low at her knees so that she was then racing towards Reno at a breathtaking pace, two grenades poised for release.

"Fuck!" Reno's attempt at backtracking was as successful as it could possibly be when trying to move from a standing stop on ice, which is to say he ended up flat on his back, his breath knocked out of him. He barely had time to roll out of the way as Elena leaped into the air, the two snowballs barely missing his head and … unmentionables. She didn't stop, flipping over him and continuing down the corridor.

"Rude, the target is heading in your direction. I repeat, the target is heading in your direction."

They could, of course, hold training outside. The problem with that, Reno was always quick to point out, was that outside was fucking cold. It was easy enough to replicate the conditions simply by leaving the doors open, icing down the corridors, and rigging up explosions in the air conditioning ducts.

As the elevator shaft imploded in a shock of twisted metal and shattered glass, the last sane staff member made their escape down an outside fire escape. That left pockets of insanity still to navigate, as Hojo never left and Scarlet took her own perverse glee in the proceedings that set even the Turks on edge. Of course, by involving themselves in the game they were putting themselves at risk. All it took was a pointed comment or a sour look for the Turks target to change in an instant, and they weren't above targeting those who were gobbling up the food chain above them.

They just made sure someone ELSE received the blame. That someone else might just be the Turk standing beside you. Loyalty went out the window when it meant being Hojo's latest test subject was a possibility.

There was only one person that all the Turks showed unrelenting loyalty against during their war games, and so when both Rude AND Elena came skidding back together down the hallway Reno didn't ask, just allowed himself to be dragged up to his feet in one fluid moment and scampered after them. An array of bullets sparked through the air, and Elena let out a surprised grunt when one tore loosely through her jacket.

"How is it that he can make even _bullets_sound like they've got a stick up their arse?" Reno muttered as he collapsed down onto the floor.

"Why don't you ask him?" Elena shot back breathlessly, reloading clinically. "Your sacrifice would be appreciated."

"Fuck off."

"I suggest we initiate Plan 3a, Section 12." Rude didn't cut in so much as Elena and Reno's bickering parted before his words. It was a decent suggestion, and both Elena and Reno took it into consideration.

Plan 3a, Section 12 involved the water mains that ran above the polystyrene squares that passed for a ceiling and which, thanks to a rather ingenious development on Elena's behalf, flowed with a bright blue liquid that only froze once it came into contact with something warm. At some point during the planning stage the liquid had been intended for live weapons that needed to be negotiated. However, the testing phase had proved that human test subjects were much more entertaining.

Especially in winter, when a quick retreat was being hindered by the fact they were being chased by a quicker pursuer (who might also just happen to be their boss, so killing him with the underfloor explosives was kind of out of the question)

It was cruel. Obnoxious. Genius.

And more than any of them, Tseng hated the cold.

Shinra didn't celebrate Boxing Day, what with it being a tradition that had been born in quaint, English towns where street urchins cheekily stole apples and people openly applauded this degradation of the local economy in the name of spiritedness.

But, that's ok. Tseng had always been very good at inventing his own holidays, anyway.


End file.
